


can't keep my eyes closed

by RatsuyaSuou



Category: Persona 2
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, altogether too much featherman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatsuyaSuou/pseuds/RatsuyaSuou
Summary: As Tatsuya grows older, his memories of the Masked Circle fade.
Relationships: Kurosu Jun/Suou Tatsuya
Comments: 1
Kudos: 59





	can't keep my eyes closed

Tatsuya Suou was eight. 

He couldn’t remember much of the day, one month ago, when he was admitted to the intensive care unit. His back hadn’t even hurt, really- and he had told Katsuya so on the stretcher, which made his older brother cry, for some reason. 

It had been a long night, filled with the insidious beeping of monitors and machines, just loud enough to mask hushed conversations between his brother and the doctors with grim faces. Each examination room was a little too cold for Tatsuya’s pale green shift, and more than anything, he had just wanted to go to sleep. 

Tatsuya was used to the hospital now, however; he had memorized each stain in its sleepy pale walls and the scratch of stiff sheets against his legs. He couldn’t help but wonder what he was missing out there, in the real world. Had Michel had finally showed the others the song he was working on? Had Jun had smiled again, as big and bright as he rarely did? Had any of them been able to find an address with which to write to Maya?

Katsuya never was able to find out if she was alright, no matter how many times Tatsuya begged. He couldn’t do anything without a last name, he would sometimes snap, before his face fell and he brushed back Tatsuya’s hair in reconciliation.

It was hot in Sumaru City that year, so the air conditioning clattered nonstop and Tatsuya’s bandages clung to his sweaty skin. Katsuya was upset when Tatsuya picked at them, but there really wasn’t that much else to do. Featherman was on its summer hiatus, and Tatsuya had reached the uncomfortable age where children’s programming was too juvenile, but adult shows were too dull. And what was more, shows were only an option when Katsuya could wheedle the old television in Tatsuya’s room, as heavy and half as tall as Tatsuya was, into functionality. Most days, it simply stuttered into static, pixelating each image into a soup of indiscernible color. 

As the days stretched into weeks, Tatsuya realized just how lonely he was. A slightly smudged window to his left separated him completely from the world outside, and only if he strained could Tatsuya hear muffled childrens’ voices and birds chirping. 

With only Katsuya and the occasional doctor for company, Tatsuya found himself thinking of his friends often. He was ashamed of how easily his thoughts turned bitter- how he would ask the silence, coursing through recycled air, why? Why had his friends abandoned him? Why hadn’t any of them come to visit? Had they even noticed Tatsuya was gone? – but those spells didn’t last long, because Tatsuya was strong enough to know better. The bond between him and the others was not so easily broken. He knew from Katsuya that it was difficult to track other children down, especially with no last names or faces. If they couldn’t find his friends, it was likely just as difficult to find him. 

It wasn’t fair, that Tatsuya had to be separated from them, but he would rather have taken the blow than any of them suffer. 

So as most children did, when trapped in the throes of boredom, Tatsuya found himself passing the time with daydreams. They were a reliable source of entertainment- because when the television had blinked and huffed and shaken itself into shutting off, and Katsuya was too busy to read to him, Tatsuya could always lay back to where the pillow squished up against the back of his cot, and trace the power lines outside of the window with his eyes. 

They would be overjoyed when he came back, Tatsuya was sure of it. Maya would have moved away, and Michel would probably cry at the sight of him, but Tatsuya planned to show him his very best rendition of the five of them in crayon. Michel always wanted to color, so maybe it could make him happy. Tatsuya had worked very hard on it, scrawled a little clumsily on the back of a tray Katsuya had found for him. 

It was easy to plan for most reunions, piecing together stories and activities with the grace of silent contemplation, but there was one of the bunch that always stood out. Tatsuya surprised himself sometimes, with how often he thought about Jun. He hoped most of all that the quiet boy would still be there, because Katsuya gently warned him that Jun had a difficult life. Tatsuya had seen glimpses of it - the short words Jun had for his father, or the older boys who harassed him, how Jun was always the first to come to the shrine and the last to leave. 

He remembered vividly what Jun would whisper to him when they stayed out too late, and his voice hung in the muggy air as bright as the fireflies surrounding. Tatsuya held the words close, cupped by his heart in these lonely times. 

He too wished that they could live together. 

Tatsuya found himself wanting to reach out often- to take Jun’s hand while he pointed out constellations, or brush back the fringe of hair that obscured his eyes, or, though it made him nervous, to give him a full-fledged hug upon his arrival back from the hospital.

He had the most to say to Jun, Tatsuya found, little thoughts that blew across his mind like the smatterings of clouds outside, shy in the summer blaze. Tatsuya had thought of a way to fix the strap on Jun’s Black Condor mask- some new elastic, he could probably whine until Katsuya bought it for him- and he had gotten better at the vehicular impressions which made Jun giggle so loudly and uncomposed. He had finally been able to spot Orihime and Hikoboshi on his own, something that would probably impress Jun, who had been so gentle in identifying the constellations over and over again for Tatsuya- and he could probably laugh at how Tatsuya had awoken his dozing brother in his excitement, too. 

It was Jun’s favorite constellation. He’d told Tatsuya many times about the separated lovers, weaving his way through each emotion until the characters felt close enough to touch. It was why when Tatsuya looked up at them from his hospital bed, he could imagine their light glinting against Jun’s dark eyes like it always did. He shone so beautifully, painfully bright, and Tatsuya was entranced just by the way breaths in his chest rose and fell.

Jun was a gifted storyteller, and it was his words that remained forefront in Tatsuya’s mind. Sometimes Tatsuya’s little room felt like a tower in one of his storybooks, and Tatsuya could imagine that the knife plunged into his back had been cursed to seal him here forever for some villain’s dastardly plot. He could picture himself telling Jun all about it, waiting for his face to brighten in recognition when he had found just the spell to set Tatsuya free, because Jun was smart and thoughtful and he always knew just what Tatsuya wanted to hear. 

Although, Tatsuya did prefer to imagine himself as a knight when he could. That was what Jun told him he was, after Tatsuya chased away the boys who made fun of him- Jun’s knight in shining armor. The thought made Tatsuya proud, for some reason, and in a couple of his drawings he donned a knight’s helmet and sword. 

It was this, the feeling of missing Jun so desperately, that drove Tatsuya to begin badgering his older brother for Jun’s gift, tucked into one of Tatsuya’s drawers for safekeeping. Katsuya grumbled as he always did, wondering aloud why a child would have a lighter, much less need it in the hospital, but complied regardless, much to Tatsuya’s relief. He wasn’t allowed to turn it on- at the panicked behest of Katsuya, the hospital staff, and several fire alarms- but simply having it was enough.

He could remember clearly, when he held it, the touch of Jun’s hand as he handed it over, the smile in his eyes when Tatsuya had given him his watch in turn. It was a solid weight in his hands, real and present, and with nothing better to do Tatsuya began to snap it open and closed. 

The sound annoyed Katsuya, too, which was always a plus. 

With the lighter safe in his hands once more, Tatsuya decided he would never again let it out of his sight. He knew now, naturally, instinctively, that the lighter was not simply a gift. It was a promise.

One day, he would find Jun again. 

(X)

Tatsuya Suou was eight and a half. 

His back tinged in pain, and Katsuya scolded him for even considering playing with other children. He was different now, his brother said with kind- pitying- eyes, crouched down to his level, hands tight around his shoulders. Tatsuya already knew, from the discussions overheard with doctors, and the notes passed to his teachers. 

He had never liked physical education, anyways.

Tatsuya doesn’t mind being different. They had all been, in some way: Lisa, with hair brighter than he had ever seen, Michel, shy and quick to tear up, Maya, almost as old as Katsuya but with a smile he could never replicate, and Jun, who was the most beautiful boy Tatsuya had ever seen. 

Fall had changed Araya Shrine even before the building came into view. The trees around had wilted into a sickly shade of orange, shedding their leaves on the dusty ground beneath. A breeze shook them as it rustled by, crisp and cool, jostling the rope slung around the cindered remains of the shrine itself. 

The sight filled Tatsuya with a dread he hadn’t yet experienced in all his ten years, even more potent than the night he was stabbed, though it seemed silly to think. Seeing the shrine- innocent, unremarkable backdrop to his summer, halved by the sickening bite of flames felt unnatural and wrong. 

Tatsuya felt, strongly, that he had never been meant to see this. 

And Katsuya said, quite loudly, that he’d told Tatsuya so, there weren’t any children playing here since the accident, even though it didn’t make sense, to Tatsuya, because it wasn’t the shrine which had stabbed him. Tatsuya pretended that he hadn’t heard his older brother and made another loop around the lot, crinkling leaves with his feet, as though one of his friends would pop out of a shadowy corner if only he stepped close enough.

It only got even more soot on his shoes, which Katsuya was quick to point out. 

Araya Shrine felt unbearably empty like this, aching shy and small in the dull autumn light. Tatsuya traced his steps deliberately, recalling exactly who stood where in every game- the strict lineup of Phoenix Ranger Featherman R, and the loose features of the titular building in House. The boards they had used as markers were badly singed, so it was hard to pinpoint exactly where it had all occurred, but Tatsuya was determined.

He was still determined when Katsuya managed to drag him home, with a promise that they would return the next day to check again.

It began slowly, creeping in like the weeds which dotted the stone path at Araya’s entrance. First, a thought crossed Tatsuya’s mind- that maybe Katsuya was right, and his friends weren’t returning. It was silly, however, because Katsuya hadn’t been there- which was what Tatsuya said, hotly, to his brother, watching in silence for the duration of their latest visit. He hadn’t seen what good friends they were, and how much they meant to one another. 

After a week, however, where Tatsuya’s only companions were the whistle of the wind and the lingering smell of ash, he decided that he would have to be more creative. Katsuya was begrudgingly cooperative, accompanying his brother to swing sets, and fields, and a small bridal shop in front of a bar that made him hiss in disapproval, clapping a hand over Tatsuya’s eyes. 

No matter how crowded these places were, with hyperactive children and not-quite infectious joy, or washed-up adults who stunk with something Tatsuya couldn’t name, it was never enough to dispel the feeling of emptiness which hung over Tatsuya like a shroud. 

But even through the fog, misting his thoughts like a slow morning, Tatsuya’s head spun with questions. Where had his friends gone? Why had none of them contacted him? Would he ever see them again?

His finger ran down the glass Katsuya had told him not to touch slowly, tracing a line of clarity through the smeary condensation. It wasn’t hot in Sumaru City anymore, but any rain brought the humidity out again. Today, it had blurred the wedding shop’s display into colorful distortions of dress and flower.

In the little clearing, however, a sliver of his own face stared back at Tatsuya. Although it didn’t look like him, Tatsuya thought suddenly of Jun- his other half, Maya had said. The thought only made Tatsuya’s stomach turn, however, because Maya wasn’t here any longer, and neither was Jun.

The only thing that remained of his very best friend was the lighter, sitting heavy in Tatsuya’s pocket. 

Tatsuya took it out, holding it up to the window like an offering- the metal was slippery from the wet on his finger, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but it felt right to see it here again, a silver glint in his reflection. 

Katsuya sighed, and told Tatsuya that he should hurry up before it rained again, and before Tatsuya could protest Katsuya had taken his smaller hand in his and walked his younger brother home. Tatsuya still watched, however, as the little red raincoat of his reflection shrank the farther away they walked.

He could have sworn, just for a second, that he had spotted a black one on the other side. 

Tatsuya didn’t want to return to the shrine after that. It felt awful, like something had taken to scooping out his insides with every step, but his visits were routine now, and he had to be sure. Sometimes heroes had to do things that hurt, after all, especially to save their friends. 

Determination was one thing, but in the face of his looming fate, Tatsuya could feel the odd sensation in his chest continue to grow. Although he could see Araya just before him, dressed in the warm colors of fall and towering over him as it always did, he felt more deeply that he wasn’t seeing anything at all. Tatsuya squinted at it, like he had in front of the window to the bridal shop, trying to make out the edges of each smear. Every day he was missing another piece- he couldn’t recall who wore the yellow mask, or what game pink always wanted to play, and it only got worse and worse. 

Until one day, standing alone at the entrance of the shrine, Tatsuya couldn’t see the ghosts of his friends any longer. 

(X) 

Tatsuya Suou was fourteen. 

He scanned the midterm grade lists again, pulling his lips higher into a frown, and furrowing his brow in concentration. He did this every year in what felt like vain hope, but it wasn’t in his character to give up. 

The lists continued as they had the first time he read them, cluelessly absent of the name he was searching for. Every so often Tatsuya fooled himself, thinking he had nearly spotted the name out of the corner of his eye, before it darted away as though picked up by the wind. 

Tatsuya peeled himself away from the posting, sighing heavily.

It was difficult to accept that in six years, Tatsuya had never seen Jun Kurosu’s name in any part of his school, from the grade postings to their yearbooks. There wasn’t any other middle school in their area, so he couldn’t fathom where else the boy could be. Tatsuya had scoured the phone book, had rode his bicycle to the library and attempted the internet, and even lived with the indignity of his ill-fated stint in the astronomy club. 

Tatsuya just knew, as naturally as breathing, that he had to keep on looking, even as every attempt returned fruitless. His was a desperate kind of search, running on fumes, but he had to keep on going. 

Though in the back of his mind was the thought Tatsuya refused to admit to himself, the slowly crystallizing anxiety that maybe he wouldn’t be able to find this person- or that maybe he had already failed. The small scrap of a memory felt off, poisoned by the feeling that Tatsuya had forgotten something important, as though the name “Jun Kurosu” was a wave rolling just atop a dizzying ocean, filled with people and memories long lost to time.

Sometimes, Tatsuya would copy the name in the margins of his notes, just to be sure he wouldn’t forget it too. Seeing it in ink- scratched there by his own pen- made it feel all the more real. 

If Tatsuya could find Jun Kurosu- if he could see his face, stare into his eyes, hear the words from his lips- he knew that it would all make sense. The odd gap in his mind would be filled, and the disquiet buzzing in his chest would finally settle down. 

It only took a week for Tatsuya to have his wish. 

His homeroom was buzzing with excitement that December morning, and Tatsuya could only catch snippets as he chained up his bicycle and ambled inside. He didn’t care much for gossip, particularly not while the sky still yawned in darkness and sleep stuck to his eyes. Still, he would have to be deaf not to hear parts of it- that some boys had been beaten up- no, put in the hospital- no, would never walk again- chirped from the mouths of every middle schooler around. 

It was surely embellished, Tatsuya thought, peeling off layers of winterwear. He had been in a fight or two himself. Most likely some precocious gang leader wanted to be feared. 

Tatsuya had already begun thinking of geometry when he had slumped into his chair by the window of their homeroom, bored and a little nervous for the test later that day. He laid his head onto the desk, still frigid from overnight, and fidgeted with his lighter again, clicking it in the palm of his hand. For a second, Tatsuya entertained the thought of turning it on, for a bit of heat to warm the tips of his fingers, but he knew that would be stupid. 

Snow pelted against the window to Tatsuya’s left, the heater rumbled against the wall, and the girl two seats in front of Tatsuya twisted in her chair to tell her friend that she would never have expected this out of Jun Kurosu of all people. 

Tatsuya’s eyes snapped up.

He repeated the name, asking in a panic before the moment could pass, but he knew already that it was no use. The girl continued talking as though he had never spoken at all, like a blizzard had spun his words away, and the name tumbled through Tatsuya’s fingers into the unfathomable depths of his mind. 

The feeling of loss fell in flurries around Tatsuya’s mind while he unhooked the chain from his bicycle at the end of the day. He pedaled home on narrow roads while snowflakes pelted at his vision, feeling more alone than usual as he rode up his driveway through the crisp air. The howl of winter wind filled his ears.

It was an odd feeling, because Tatsuya preferred to be alone. 

Katsuya wasn’t home yet, but the television had been left on, bubbling with sound in the background. Tatsuya flicked light switches on while he made his way to the living room. He dug for the remote between couch cushions, recalling Katsuya’s pointed reminders every month after the energy bill came. 

When he finally looked up, finger resting on the power button, Tatsuya paused. A Featherman rerun blinked at him through the fuzzy old screen. Nostalgia pricked at him- he remembered watching this show when he was younger, though the suits looked a lot more silly than he remembered. 

He had the mask of the red one, shoved in the back of some closet, however as the episode played, Tatsuya found himself remembering that the black ranger was always his favorite. He couldn’t explain why, if he tried- he was the quietest of the bunch, and even a villain, though Tatsuya had heard from classmates that he was redeemed in later seasons. 

And yet, whenever Black Condor came onscreen, Tatsuya was struck with the feeling again: a profound sense of emptiness. He couldn’t help but feel as though there was a hole digging across his life, that he had lost something precious he once had. 

His fingers tapped idly against his coat pocket, making sure that his lighter was still snug in place.

The longer the show played, the more uneasy Tatsuya felt, like he had been trapped in one of those nightmares where he got lost at his own school. He felt acutely aware of something he could not express, something rooted deep inside of him and struggling to get out.

Tatsuya turned the television off. 

(X) 

Tatsuya Suou was seventeen. 

Katsuya didn’t know yet, but he had found his own apartment, near Seven Sisters High School. A few months’ worth of paychecks from his part-time job at the mechanic’s had been enough for the down payment, and Tatsuya had already signed. 

He could delay purchasing his own motorcycle for a little while longer, if it meant complete independence. 

Tatsuya had thought often about how Katsuya would react to his announcement, but didn’t really know how best to break the news. He was currently entertaining the path of least resistance, surrounded by half-filled cardboard boxes in his bedroom. 

It wasn’t that he minded incurring his brother’s wrath- such a thing was as inevitable as the springtime storms which rumbled in the distance- but he didn’t put it past Katsuya to find some crazy way to keep him in their family home, whether it was through some archaic law nobody quite remembered, or, worst case scenario, simply locking Tatsuya in his own bedroom. 

Tatsuya scowled to himself. The crazy bastard.

The transfer of his closet to folded, neat packages went smoothly, as Tatsuya picked school-issued button ups and leather jackets from the rungs of his closet. He was only just marveling at his own skill when he remembered, halfway out of the door, that he had forgotten to pack any socks, and dropped a box of slacks in his haste to retrieve them before Katsuya came home. 

After Tatsuya emptied his sock drawer, he paused, box balanced against his hip, running his eyes over his childhood bedroom one last time. His desk was empty, as was his dresser, and the closet had been stripped of everything Tatsuya wore, leaving only bare hangers and the slightest scrap of red. 

A strange feeling made the self-imposed time limit fade from Tatsuya’s mind, and he tilted his head to see the bright color better. The box fell from his arms to his old bed gently, and Tatsuya crouched down in the back of his closet, picking up what turned out to be an old Red Hawk mask. 

Tatsuya couldn’t keep a soft smile from his face, rubbing a thin layer of dust from the mask, which smelled strongly of old clothes and mothballs. He remembered when it gave off the unmistakable scent of tinny new plastic, and muffled his too-small face with saturated shine.

Something about the memory made Tatsuya’s breath catch, and he turned the mask over and over in his hands. A familiar sense of loss rushed into his mind, the very same feeling that had tailed him since childhood, and festered there, sickly and aching. Tatsuya felt unbearably bereaved; as though he had woken up without a limb, or found the entirety of Sumaru City had been wiped overnight. 

The sensation had struck randomly for years, ever since Tatsuya was in middle school. It turned entire days of his morose, troubled by the conundrum facing him- because how could he recover what he didn’t remember having? -or woke him up in a haze of nervous energy, with his hair drifting down into his eyes as he fought to remember something, anything. The episodes mostly began after his hospitalization, which made it was easy to assume they were a response to the trauma, but Tatsuya wasn’t so sure.

That conclusion felt wrong, somehow. 

Tatsuya set the mask down, hoping that the feeling would quell. It seemed safer to leave it here, he realized, no matter what nostalgic value it held. Who knew, maybe the memories of his childhood dependence would comfort Katsuya. 

Their latest fight still stung on Tatsuya’s skin as he stood, like pollen pricking at his nose. He couldn’t imagine why Katsuya would be concerned with their father’s watch now, when it had been missing for so many years that Tatsuya couldn’t even remember when he had lost it.

Another thing for the gaping void to swallow.

Katsuya was angry regardless, because it was just like Tatsuya to be so careless, and of course it mattered, and- no, no he didn’t care about their father’s legacy more than Tatsuya.

It was too late for Tatsuya not to realize the truth, however. 

A tree branch just outside tapped at Tatsuya’s window, blown forwards by a gust of springtime air. His shoulders relaxed from the tension he hadn’t realized he was holding.

It was spring, Tatsuya remembered, a time of rebirth, and he was moving out. 

The boxes balanced nicely in his grip, and Tatsuya’s new apartment wasn’t as far as he would have liked, but the walk was pleasant on a day like this. Rain-washed air filled his lungs and the sounds of the city sprung up around him, the flush of car horns and chirps of birds and shouts of children. 

Tatsuya followed his usual path, thinking about nothing in particular- his grades in English, that blonde girl who he had turned down for a date, how none of his clients believed he was seventeen- when he felt his steps begin to slow, and he looked up.

He hadn’t been to Araya Shrine for as long as he could remember. It was repaired now - from what, Tatsuya couldn’t recall- and the sight made something in his chest jump. The feeling of loss, of nostalgia, of déjà vu slammed into him like breaking waves in the bay, like he could lose his very balance standing still right here.

Tatsuya blinked, trying to regain control of his senses, and his hair brushed against his cheeks, tousled by the wind. The air was fragrant with cherry blossoms, as it was every time he stepped outside, but he could swear that somehow, that a trace of smoke lingered.

It burned.

The boxes dropped to the sidewalk below, guided by his gentle hands, and Tatsuya patted his coat pocket. He felt the outline of the lighter, but he had to make sure, fishing into the folds of fabric and closing his fingers around the cool metal.

Snap. Open and closed.

Tatsuya exhaled as the melancholy waned, fading fast in the presence of his tiny open flame. A feeling flitted by, slipping through his fingers- joy? No, comfort. This was a place of comfort. A home, of sorts.

Sunlight peeked through the gaps between leaves in the trees above, a maze of speckled green and gold. Tatsuya’s fist closed around the lighter, holding on tight, and he felt for a fleeting moment that he finally understood. 

It passed as all things did, however, and Tatsuya tucked his treasure away, bending down to pick the boxes back up. The stop had just been an impulse, he decided, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten his lighter, like the socks.

Like the watch. 

(X)

Tatsuya Suou was eighteen. 

Summer was approaching fast. The light stayed longer and harsher each day, people began to linger in the buzzing outdoors, and Tatsuya’s guidance counselor asked him if he knew what he wanted to do with his life, with graduation approaching so soon.

He remembered feeling taken off guard, blinking, wiping motor oil into his pants, and supposing that he would follow in Katsuya’s footsteps. And when he looked off to the side, plagued yet again by that awful feeling- the sense that he had forgotten- Ms. Saeko only nodded in approval. 

It was hot in Kasugayama’s bomb shelter. Even though it benefited from being underground, the structure was crude, and there certainly wasn’t any air conditioning. Tatsuya’s legs ached from the group’s aimless wandering, and the gravel poked at him where he sat, but during their break, he found himself calmer than expected.

Something about this day felt right.

It was an odd thought to have, because everything that could go wrong had gone wrong- their school had succumbed to a horrific curse, demons had flooded Sumaru City, and Tatsuya’s neck still sported angry red marks from where Joker had held him up, head cocked in brimming wonder. By all accounts, he should have been miserable.

But he wasn’t. 

Being part of a group shouldn’t feel so natural, because Tatsuya was a loner. He had been alone for as long as he could remember. Yet all of it- Michel’s stupid, stupid jokes, Maya’s gentle comfort, Yukino’s brash honesty- felt almost right. Tatsuya felt almost right, amongst these people, and the void clawing in his chest had quieted its roars.

It wasn’t silenced, but Tatsuya felt relieved nonetheless. 

Maya held up the tattered little arms of her rabbit toy, and Tatsuya melted into a small smile. He couldn’t remember his mother, but he hoped she had been like this- so funny, and warm. 

He pulled out his lighter to show her in turn, the box that had seemed so alien and unwieldy when he was young but felt so delicate now, with the flowery English script Tatsuya had attempted and failed to translate once or twice. Tatsuya clicked the top, open and closed as he always did, but something was different. 

Images flashed across his mind- the bridal store that he always slowed by, tiny hands clasped around the lighter, a high, musical voice and frustrated, sad eyes. Emotion resonated deep in Tatsuya’s heart- kinship, warmth, a promise made between two opposites- and for the first time in a decade, Tatsuya felt whole.

For the first time in a decade, he remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be done for tatsuya's birthday. happy belated 39th to best boy


End file.
